


What he wants (what you need)

by Areiton



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, College Student Stiles Stilinski, Consent, Future Fic, Good Peter Hale, M/M, POV Peter Hale, POV Second Person, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 03:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17236445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: You answer the phone and his voice is raspy and pleased and you think nothing you've done in this life or the last could warrant this.





	What he wants (what you need)

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't relax until I wrote this because Peter is a noisy bastard so here. Have a piney thing. <3

You don’t say anything, when he gets accepted at MIT. 

You don’t say anything but you make his favorite dinner, and smile for him, and ignore the stabbing pain in your gut as he babbles happily, about schedules and classes and a fresh start. You love him and it has to be his choice. 

You tell yourself your happy for him. 

~*~ 

You don’t say anything, when he looks at dorms. 

You sniff to yourself and leave him with his pamphlets and brochures, leaves him to his mumbling with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder, and go to his father. 

“I want him somewhere safe,” you say and if the narrow eyed gaze he gives you is any indication, he knows what you’re doing and why. 

You hold his gaze, steady and unflinching and he nods. 

You smile, pleased when Stiles crows excitedly over the apartment you find him, and accept the quick, tight hug he gives you and refuse to wish for more. 

~*~ 

You don't protest when he shops, dragging you behind him as he gleefully fills up a shopping cart with sheets, clothes, shoes, a thick coat he has no need for here. You add piles of books, folders and notebooks, a shiny new laptop that makes him make a protesting noise and you shush him with a pointed glare. 

You don't protest, and soak in his excited contentment as packs it all carefully away. 

~*~  

You stay silent, when he leaves. McCall cries and Lydia sniffs into her coffee, annoyed by the hour and the production of it all. Derek glares, irritable and uncomfortable and you watch him jitter in place, hugging them in turn before he tucks himself into your arms. 

“Be good, while I'm gone,” he says. 

You huff. “Where's the fun in that?” 

He laughs and its watery, but real and you cling to it and the quick press of his lips to your cheek before he darts away and John nods at you, before they drive away. 

~*~ 

You answer the phone, when he parties. When he calls you, drunk and happy, full of life the way he never was when he was  _ here. _

You listen as he rambles, his voice dipping and honey warm, and you keep your lips pressed together. When his words slur and go raspy and hungry, you close your eyes and coax him into bed and wish you could do more, could brush his hair from his forehead and curl around him. 

You can't. You only get this--his midnight drunk calls and his laughter, a snapshot into a life he lives without you. 

You tell yourself it's enough. 

~*~ 

You stay behind, when he gets sick. John and Derek both go to him and you--don't. You mind the pack, patrol the land, and wait. You ignore the looks from both your nephew and the sheriff, ignore the gentle, “He'd want you there,” and stay. 

You listen when he calls, raspy and apologetic for scaring you, weak but getting stronger, bantering with your nephew and fond when he speaks to his father.

He Skypes after a week and you snark at him, tease to see him smile while Derek and John hover in the background and your hands tremble with fear at how pale and weak he looks. 

~*~ 

You answer the phone and his voice is raspy and pleased and you think nothing you've done in this life or the last could warrant  _ this. _

Stiles freshly fucked and giddy on endorphins is something you only wanted to hear when your cock was still buried in his ass and his lips were slick and wet from your kisses. 

Still. 

He calls you and months now after he's left you, you think that matters. 

You listen to him talk, crowing and pleased, and you smile for him, and ache with longing. 

~*~ 

You ignore the hard stares, from John and Derek. 

Stiles isn't yours. You don't get to control his life. You offered yourself, once, pressed your teeth to his pounding pulse and even in your insanity, you  _ hoped.  _

And he said no. 

And you love him, too much to force yourself on him. 

“You should tell him,” John says, gently. 

“He's happy,” you say because it is the only thing that matters. 

“You're an idiot,” Derek informs you, bluntly. 

~*~ 

You congratulate him, when he gets an internship. 

You know it was competitive, that he worked hard through the long second year of college to earn it and you are so proud of him it hurts. 

The promise of a long summer spent with him breaks with that internship, shatters through you like echoes of broken glass and you keep that pain locked tightly away. 

~*~ 

You're soft and sympathetic when he calls you sad and lonely. 

He dates. You hate them, the pretty string of girls and boys who slip in and out of his bed, who leave him a little sharper and more jaded, who can never quite give him what he needs. 

“I can't fight with them,” he says, grumpily. 

“They don't understand,” he says, sadly. 

And you think,  _ I am right here, darling idiot boy. _

~*~ 

You don't weigh in when he looks a the future. You have been a constant in his life since he left for college, longer than that if you're honest, but this is his  _ life.  _

“I did what I was supposed to,” he says, one night, exhausted and frustrated and pale in the glow of his computer screen. “When do I get to do what I want to do?” 

You smile at him. “Darling, what do you want to do?”

He doesn't answer, just watches you with those deep, beautiful eyes that see too much and not enough. 

~*~ 

You don't believe it, when he comes home.

When you step into your condo and all you can smell is him, and follow that scent to your bed and you gasp, seeing him there.

He's sprawled, in boxers and bare skin, across your sheets and you think--this is everything you want and refused to ask for and if he leaves you again-- 

“I took a job,” he mumbles into his pillow. 

You startle and he twists his head, peers at you with one eye that's bright and warm. “I can work from home. Two days a month in the office.” 

“Where is the office?” you ask, stepping closer to him carefully. 

“Palo Alto,” he says and holds out a hand. 

“Are you sure?” You ask. You have to ask. He has to want this. 

Want  _ you.  _

He smiles, and draws you down into a kiss. 

~*~ 

You wake to him, warm and naked in your arms, finally,  _ finally _ and he mumbles your name as he burrows closer. 

You smile. 


End file.
